“It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to,” Cora Wilcox sang under her breath, making a few marks on the sheet of parchment she was poring over. She was sitting at a beautiful old table by the window in the quarters she had now permanently moved into with Ian. It had been a long and frantic day after the trial in the morning — Margaret had quietly organized an enormous surprise party for lunch to celebrate Cora’s acquittal. They’d stepped through the doors of the Hall, chattering animatedly about the hilarious sight of the disgraced Lord wallowing about in the water, and there had been the entire castle, waiting in apprehension of how the trial went. When they saw that Cora stood there, dripping wet but alive and well, an enormous cheer had gone up, and the whole mob had rushed forward to embrace her, to welcome her back to the castle and to her free life as a member of the Clan. Ian had fended off the worst of the loving assault, roaring with laughter, but she’d been thrown around the group, hugged, kissed and celebrated.

And when she finally pulled herself free, grinning widely, Margaret was waiting for her, a smile playing around her lips, hands folded neatly at her front. But as Cora looked at her, she spread those arms and began to move toward her with a meaningful look in her eyes. Dripping with mud still, Cora had laughed, trying to stop Margaret from embracing her for fear of covering her in mud. Somehow, the dignified headwoman seemed like she was above mud — as though it would just slide off her perfectly composed surface — but Cora was unwilling to test the theory.

“I knew you’d do it, lassie,” Margaret murmured, eyes full of pride.

Cora realized she hadn’t spoken with her since the interview, hadn’t had an opportunity to tell her the profound extent to which her coaching had saved her life. She raised her voice above the hubbub in the dining room to be heard, hanging on to Margaret’s hands as she spoke.

“I did! I told them all about Skye — everything you taught me — Margaret, they believed it! Every detail! I think one of them had actually been there — he asked a few questions about the tavern and I told him everything you taught me and he backed right off!”

“You’re a quick student,” Margaret laughed. “I’m so glad my home town was of help to you. It’s not often that a headwoman can assist a woman to escape the clutches of the Inquisition.” A shadow passed across her face, but it didn’t lessen the smile in her eyes. “Bellina and I, we were good friends. I helped her learn her English and Gaelic, actually — she was so shy when she got here, so lost, but once I began teaching her the names of the plants in the garden, she took to it like a duck to water. She was so like you. Not just the look of her, but her spirit, her courage. And her cleverness.”

Cora smiled, squeezing Margaret’s hands in an attempt to show her any of the huge bubbling sea of gratitude in her heart — and then remembered suddenly that the brooch from Skye was still pinned to the dress she was wearing… Cora’s eyes widened in horror and her hands flew to her dress, frantically searching it — and she let out a breath of acute relief. “Oh, thank God. Here you go, Margaret. Let me tell you — this brooch saved my life. It kept me calm when I needed to be and gave me the strength to keep going.”

“Glad to hear it,” Margaret replied, smiling. “Now when I wear it, I’ll think of you.”

“We’re taking that trip to Skye,” Cora told her meaningfully. “Just as soon as I’ve had about a week’s worth of decent sleep.”

Margaret smiled — gestured to a large bowl of steaming water she had set aside. Cora groaned in gratitude, washed the worst of the mud from her face and hands, then joined Ian at the table. The mud-caked newly engaged couple set about their lunch as though they hadn’t eaten in weeks — and Cora was delighted to note that her favorite pastries were among the ample lunch fare provided. Margaret did think of everything.

Colin raised his glass and the hall quietened down.

“I would like to propose a toast,” he declared. “To Cora Wilcox and Maeve MacClaran, two women who defeated the entire Inquisition with the force of their wills. May we remain ever thankful that they are on our side, and not our enemies’.”

There was a roar of laughter and approval, and Cora blushed as the whole room toasted her name. Audrina, sitting across the table, leaned forward to clink their mugs together, beaming from ear to ear.

That afternoon, she had had the longest bath imaginable, scrubbed every last grain of river mud from her hair, and then taken a long and luxurious stroll around the castle grounds, trying to bring herself to believe that she was finally free. No more Inquisition to worry about, no more Lord Cotswold sidling around with his beady little eyes and his sadistic tendencies. She didn’t spare his whereabouts much thought — he wasn’t anywhere near here, and that was what was important. Castle MacClaran. Her home, now and forever. She beamed, turning her face back to bask in the weak but beautiful autumn sun. It had turned into an absolutely perfect day. Somewhere in the deepest part of her chest, she could feel the part of her spirit that had always belonged to Bellina — and it was at peace.

She was almost dozing in the sun, perched on the edge of a garden bed with her ankles crossed, when a loud shout roused her from her peace. Panic clutched immediately at her heart at the unexpected sound, and a thousand awful possibilities came crashing through her imagination — the Inquisitors were back, something had gone wrong, an angry family member of Lord Cotswold was here to tell them off, Lord Cotswold himself had returned with a sword ready to run every single one of them through in vengeance for ruining his life, Lord Weatherby had changed his mind about letting them go and was here to insist on increasing English control of the area —

She almost burst into relieved tears when she finally found the source of the sound — it was Donal MacClaran, wielding an enormous stick and sprinting up and down the length of the courtyard, watched with some amusement by several of the men. Now stopping his hectic sprinting back and forth, he struck a few threatening poses, then surveyed his kingdom. His bright eyes fell on Cora, sitting in the herb garden, and a delighted smile broke out across his cheeky face.

He sprinted over to her at a breakneck pace — quick as a rabbit, this young man, Cora thought with a smile — and skidded to a halt in front of her, offering a rigid little salute as he did. She laughed, reaching out instead to pull him into a hug.

“I’m so glad the Inquisitors didn’t burn you, Cora,” he told her breathlessly, his eyes wide and round. “I heard from one of the boys from the village that the Inquisitors set people on fire if they think they’re witches! Did they torture you?”

A flash of a cold, empty cell, the darkest place on Earth. A flash of a woman, bent and broken, with her hands bound and her tongue cut. Cora hesitated — but then she looked up into the sun, and the warm autumn day that had been gifted to her, and knew that that awful place didn’t need to frighten her any longer.

“No, Donal. No torture. Just a lot of questions — and a test.”

He looked a little disappointed, the corners of his mouth turning down — but he didn’t quite have the gall to speak his disappointment out loud. “Jack from the village, he says they have these things made of metal that they put on your thumbs. They screw them tighter and tighter and tighter until — pop! — your thumb comes right off!”

Cora nodded solemnly. “Now you mention it, they did have one of those.”

Donal’s eyes just about popped out of his head. His mouth dropped open, absolutely aghast, and his gaze shot down to her hands — she’d casually put them in her pockets as she spoke, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“They screwed your thumb off?”

“Well,” she said, “I managed to put it back on…but it’s not very secure...” She showed him her hand, and then, with a careful little gesture that she’d learned from her mentor, slid the top joint of her thumb right off! The actual thumb was tucked away safe in her palm, of course — it was the other thumb that appeared to have been removed. Her mentor had always recommended keeping a collection of fun little tricks like that in her back pocket. You never knew when you’d be called upon to talk with the children an expectant mother already had — helping put them at their ease with a joke or trick would often help ease them into a conversation about their new baby brother or sibling. She’d rarely used the trick, but she was delighted she’d remembered it, because the reaction from Donal was astonishing. He all but threw himself backwards with a yell loud enough to shake the roof off the castle, then went careening off toward the courtyard, bellowing for all he was worth for his mother to come quick, come and see, come and see the most amazing thing ever in the history of time!

Laughing, Cora rose from her seat, dusting herself off as she went. It was good to know that the indomitable Donal hadn’t been adversely affected by all the stress and trauma of the Inquisition coming to Castle MacClaran. It would take a lot more than that to upset the young lad, really. Cora wondered what would dampen that ridiculous grin of his. It would have to be pretty serious.

Mary rounded the corner, Donal at her heels. Cora waved, happy to see the woman — she’d made herself rather scarce during the Inquisition’s visit to the castle, and she hadn’t managed to talk to her at the rather loud and hectic lunch that they’d all just had. She seemed more at peace now than she had — some of the worry lines that creased her forehead seemed to have eased up now that the Inquisition had finished their investigation. Cora knew how she felt.

“— and her thumb came right off, Mam, right off! Get her to show you! Get her to show you, Mam, honestly it was amazing, just right off it came, I’m not making it up this time I swear I saw it, I saw it, I saw it —”

“I think I know what it probably looked like, Donal,” Mary said faintly. Was she okay? She looked a little bit pale — Cora hoped she hadn’t been too put off by the graphic images of torture Donal was putting into her head. “After all, I’ve had a similar device used on me in my time...”

Donal’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his face again. “You what.” He sounded as though he could hardly believe his ears.

“Oh, yes, they tested me for witchcraft once. Look.” And ever so casually, with the barest twinkle in her eye, Mary performed the same little trick Cora had, the top joint of her thumb seeming to effortlessly separate from the rest.

“No way no way no way no way!” Donal backed away, staring at Mary as though she’d grown a second head, then turned on his heel and sprinted away at top speed, screaming his older brother’s name at the top of his lungs. Mary and Cora exchanged a glance, and though Cora had never seen her laugh, they both fell about with a huge fit of the giggles.

“He was so shocked!” Cora gasped, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

“Wasn’t expecting his mother to have any tricks up her sleeve, I suppose,” Mary chuckled, composing herself again. She looked a lot younger when she laughed — Cora could see a glimpse of the beautiful young woman she’d been. She was still beautiful now, of course.

“How are you feeling, Mary?”

“I should be asking that of you,” she countered.

“I’m fine! Still a bit soggy,” Cora added, wrinkling her nose. “But good. Such a relief that the Inquisition is gone.”

Mary nodded solemnly. “I felt a great lifting of pressure when they left. As though an enormous weight had fallen away from the land.” She leaned in, a little conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t say this to just anyone for fear of being accused of witchcraft, but it was almost like…it was almost like I felt Bellina’s spirit finally find her peace.”

Cora nodded. “I think so, Mary. She was so angry — that was the thing that she couldn’t let go, that she had been unjustly accused. She was a woman of such strong faith, and such a strong moral code — to be accused not only of not upholding the teachings of the Church, of being unfaithful to God, but to be told that she was going out of her way to do malicious harm to people? No wonder she couldn’t rest. No wonder her spirit called me all the way back here, to clear her name.”

“To clear her name, aye…and to help her friend when she needed her most. You and our Maeve have a very special friendship,” Mary said softly. “It gives me nothing but joy to know that you’ll be here for her as her children grow.”

“She told you I intend to stay?”

“Well, if you’re marrying my nephew I certainly hope you are.” Mary raised a challenging eyebrow. “Or do you intend to sweep him away to San Francisco?”

Cora laughed. “Absolutely not. Although…it would be quite funny to see what he made of the city...” Her Ian, stomping about her little flat…she wondered if he’d get on with her cat. God, that was the only thing she was worried about…but she knew someone would have realized she was missing and come to claim him. Besides, the next door neighbor had always wanted him — she was always finding any excuse to come over and spend some time with the fluffy cat. She’d adopt him in a heartbeat, that was for sure.

Mary smiled, touched her shoulder. “I couldn’t ask for a better wife for my nephew. Since his parents died, I’ve felt a kind of motherly protection for him, you know.”

Cora nodded. “I’ll take good care of him.”

“And he of you, I hope.” Mary smiled. “And it goes without saying that you’ve both got a home here for as long as you should want it. Unless you decide to go back to San Francisco.”

Cora looked around at the gardens, the sunlight, the men practicing sword fighting in the yard. The enormous castle that she couldn’t wait to get to know even better. The fresh, bracing air of the Scottish countryside. “Mary, I’d have to be mad to leave this place. Absolutely mad.”

“That you would, lass, but I’m glad you feel the same way.”

They stood together in companionable silence for some time, enjoying the peace of the afternoon, and savoring the relief of knowing that the worst was behind them.

“Is that another one of your future-songs you’re singing?” Ian asked her now, disrupting her from her work. He was lying on his back on the bed with his legs up the wall, gazing at her upside-down. It was late at night — most of the castle had gone to bed, but Cora was fussing over her current favorite project and would not be bullied into an early bedtime for love nor money.

“Yes,” she said shortly. “It’s from the sixties.”

“Eighteen sixties or seventeen sixties?”

“Nineteen! You great idiot — oh, you’re teasing me,” she realized, exasperated. He grinned an upside-down grin at her, sticking out his tongue cheekily, and she grinned back.

“How’s the seating plan coming?”

“Good, I think. I know you think I’m ridiculous for doing this now, but if we’re to be married in a month I don’t want to be planning the entire thing on the day of.”

“Get Margaret to do it.”

“Margaret has done more than enough favors for me for one lifetime,” Cora said pointedly. “She deserves some time off. I’m taking her on a holiday to Skye,” she added.

“Oh, you’ll run off to Skye with Margaret but you won’t come with me?” Ian joked in mock outrage, sliding off the bed and crossing to stand behind her. He peered over her shoulder at the seating plan, nodding studiously. “Ah, yes. Perfect. Yes, it’s a masterpiece.” He draped his arms around her shoulders, casually hugging her — and then his hands crept higher and higher…and higher…until they were cupping her bosoms through the loose night shirt she was wearing. “Mm, yes. Truly, a work of art. Two works of art, in fact —”

“You rogue,” Cora giggled, turning her head to kiss him. “Unhand me, I have important work to do.”

“So do I,” he murmured, kissing a line down her throat, down her shoulder, along the side of her waist and down to her hip. He pulled her knees apart and she sighed, dropping her head back onto the backrest of the chair as his lips moved closer and closer to the heat at the join of her legs. It was incredible, how quickly he could arouse her. He pressed one long, hot kiss against her folds, dipping his tongue into her to tease at her clitoris — and just as she was uttering a long, low moan, he pulled back and leapt to his feet, sauntering casually back over to the bed.

“Hey. Hey, unfair.”

“I’d better turn in,” he said, yawning theatrically and stretching in a way that he knew revealed all the extremely sexy muscles in his back. “See you in the morning.”

Cora growled, seating plan forgotten, and pursued him, seizing him by the shoulder and spinning him around to kiss him hard and bruising. God, it felt good to be here, with him, nothing to worry about, no Inquisition beating down their door. She had been so convinced that they’d had their last night together that this just felt like an indulgence, like a gift she’d been given by the universe, by God himself. Well, she was going to make the most of it. They quickly undressed each other as they kissed, him chuckling as she unfastened his kilt with a practiced ease. He was still teasing her about that first day, so many weeks ago.

She pushed him flat on his back onto the bed and straddled his waist, her hands flattening on his chest as she positioned her hips just so to slide him inside her. He threw back his head against the pillow and groaned, the line of his throat exposed and exquisitely beautiful in the candlelight she’d been working by. Ducking her head, she kissed the length of his throat, not caring if her overzealous ministrations left bruises. Let the world know that he was hers, that she loved him, that she showed that love with her body as well as her heart and soul. They moved together, his hands on her waist, her hands caressing the broad, beautiful muscles of his chest.

After they’d climaxed — within a few seconds of each other, as it always was, and God, did she love being that in sync with him — she lay against his chest in the darkness, the candles having long since burned down during their lovemaking. His breath was a soothing rhythm and his heart drummed gently beneath her cheek, and she felt such love for him in that moment she felt her heart would burst.

Here she was. Castle MacClaran, in fifteenth century Scotland. This was never exactly in the plan, was it, Cora, she asked herself, smiling a little into the darkness. But the important things were there. She had her work — still bringing babies into the world, still making the miracle of birth a little less intimidating for mothers and fathers alike. She had her dear friend Audrina, at her side — forever. She had her faith, which had never steered her wrong — a beautiful chapel to worship in and the strong and certain knowledge that she was where God wanted her to be. And as an added bonus, something she’d never expected, she’d found a lover and a partner who would care for her, and whom she would care for in turn.

There was a pang of grief in her heart still, though, and she was surprised to find it was for Bellina Corso. A young woman whose only crime was a passion for helping people, who had the best years of her life ripped away from her — but in being absolved for the same crimes, Cora knew somehow that she’d helped her ancestor find peace. Besides, she could still feel that part of her soul that belonged to her ancestor — and it thrummed with the same joy as the rest of her did at the thought of her future. Maybe in a way, Bellina was still with her — she could lead the life that had been taken from her, her soul intertwined with Cora’s for the rest of their days together. Perhaps someone else would have felt uncomfortable at the idea of someone else living inside them, but Cora found it rather a comfort. Like having a friend, or a sister, who was always with you, offering guidance. Like a guardian angel to watch over her.

With these thoughts on her mind and a smile on her lips, Cora Wilcox — soon to be MacClaran — fell into a deep and healing sleep. And though every night at the castle so far had been plagued by nightmares — of stone walls, of hard faces, of a darkness too deep to be borne — this night, this first night of freedom was absolutely dreamless.